Page 8

CHAPTER 8

Dee

H e didn’t leave on Tuesday or Wednesday. In fact, he’d been here nearly two weeks, and Paddy still said his car wasn’t ready. Everyone in Ballybeg knew by now that Jax had hooked up with Mickey Byrne, who, for reasons unknown, liked him when Mickey didn’t like anyone.

The story went that Jax had wandered into Mickey’s place with Paddy, curious as to what was behind the sagging doors of the old community center Mickey owned. The old boxer had been in the ring with one of the local lads, barking instructions as he demonstrated footwork. Jax, being the cocky Yank he was, commented on the boy’s stance. According to the village grapevine, Mickey shot him a glare sharp enough to curdle milk. “You think you can do better, boyo?”

Apparently, Jax had shrugged, stepped into the ring (took his shirt off before he did that, I was told), and promptly showed Mickey that, yes, he bloody well could do better.

As it turned out, the golden boy from Charleston had spent a few years learning to box back in his teens. His high school coach (he played football, the American kind), as the story went, thought it would toughen him up after Jax got into one too many fights in school. “Something about a kid nicking some other kid’s lunch,” Eileen Noland recounted dramatically at Cadhla’s bakery. “Though, I think it was about a lass, ‘cause it’s always about a lass with boys.”

Whatever the reason, Jax had picked up enough skills to impress Mickey Byrne—a feat not even the local lads, who’d been training with him for years, could pull off.

“He’s got good hands,” Mickey had reportedly told Paddy later that night over a pint. “Quick feet, too. His old coach must’ve known what he was doin’.” Coming from Mickey Byrne, that was practically a love letter.

By the next day, Jax was a fixture in the gym every morning, sparring with Mickey and helping the younger lads with their jabs.

“He’s got that look about him,” Mickey explained to Ronan when asked about it. “Like he knows how to take a hit, but more importantly, he knows how to get back up.”

Jax Caldwell had been here for half a minute and had become a part of Ballybeg, which was bad in itself, but what was worse was that he’d become a part of my life. Some people lived around you for years and didn’t make an impact, and some did it in a moment.

It was a Monday morning, and we didn’t open on Mondays until five in the evening. I’d have liked to take the day off, but ends don’t meet if you take days off, and Ronan had assured me that he had no life and didn’t mind cooking every day . If I didn’t love him like a brother, I’d marry that man, I thought as I wrapped a scarf around my neck. It was, after all, still February in Ireland, and while the calendar might’ve been shouting about spring coming soon, the weather was having none of it.

I had just zipped up my jacket, ready to brave the sunny cold day, when the man who was occupying my thoughts sauntered down the stairs.

“We don’t open until five today,” I informed him.

While I looked like a bundle of wool, he looked like he’d stepped out of a catalog for Handsome Americans Braving Irish Weather . He had on a dark coat, a gray scarf, and a pair of gloves that probably cost more than my most expensive whiskey.

“I know.” He flashed me one of those damn deep dimple smiles that made my stomach flip. He nodded toward the door. “Paddy said the walking paths around here are worth seeing. Thought I’d check them out. Care to join me?”

I arched an eyebrow. “I am going for a walk, and if you wish, you can join me.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he said cheekily, and I realized I’d stepped into it as he’d hoped.

Spending more time alone with Jax Caldwell was probably a terrible idea, but for some reason, I couldn’t tell him to take a hike.

“Fine.” I tucked my hands in my jacket pockets, looking at his designer boots. “But if you can’t keep up, don’t expect me to slow down.”

He laughed, holding the door open for me. “Noted.”

The fields around Ballybeg were still wet from last night’s rain, but the sun had coaxed some life into the grass, and little white flowers were starting to bloom along the edges of the path. Jax walked beside me, his long legs eating up the distance with ease.

“What’s that over there?” His chin angled toward the low stone walls that crisscrossed the countryside like a patchwork quilt.

“Old boundary walls,” I told him. “Some of them are hundreds of years old. They used to separate farmland.”

He nodded, taking it all in with an expression that was hard to read. For someone who came from a world of fast cars, luxury resorts, and PGA tours, he seemed genuinely interested in the quiet beauty of Ballybeg. I couldn’t fault him for that. Stunningly beautiful, our village was.

“You know,” he said after a while, “this place reminds me of something out of a storybook. Like it hasn’t changed in centuries.”

“That’s the idea.” I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck against the wind. “We’re proud of that. Ballybeg doesn’t need changing.”

He glanced at me, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You’re pretty protective of this place, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, trying to downplay the sudden warmth in my chest at his insight. “I’m not anything special, everybody in Ballybeg feels that way.”

We stopped at a small hill with a circle of ancient standing stones near the top. Jax studied them with curiosity. “This reminds me of the Stone Henge.” He squinted at one of the taller stones. “Or Outlander .”

I chuckled. “You watch Outlander ?”

“You don’t?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I do. Sam Heughan, even though he’s a Scotsman, takes his shirt off, and it’s a pretty sight.”

“Same here,” he joked.

“This is older than Outlander , I can tell you that much. These are the Lover’s Stones of Ballybeg. There’s a legend about them.”

He grinned like a kid in a candy store, excited and intrigued. “Go on.”

I walked toward the stones, letting my fingers graze the rough surface of one as I spoke. “They say that centuries ago, a young farmer fell in love with the daughter of a local chieftain. She was promised to another man, but they couldn’t stay away from each other. One night, under the light of a full moon, they ran away together and made their vows here, in this very spot. It was a sacred place back then.”

“And what happened to them?” Jax asked, stepping closer.

I glanced at him, my voice softening. “Her father found them and tried to separate them. But before they could be torn apart, they prayed to the gods to protect their love. The legend says the gods turned them into the standing stones so they could be together forever.”

“By gods, I’m assuming this is BC and not AD?”

“Aye, pre-Christian Gaelic Ireland,” I agreed. “Ancient Irish beliefs were polytheistic, involving a pantheon of gods and goddesses from Celtic mythology. These deities were connected to nature, love, war, and other aspects of life, a lot like the Greek and Roman mythologies you’re familiar with.”

“There’s something romantic and tragic about this place.” He looked at me, his eyes holding mine. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to believe in such a romantic fantasy.”

“And why not?” I asked defensively.

He put his gloved hand on my cheek, and I stopped breathing. I should tell him he couldn’t just touch me when he felt like it, but I was busy resisting the temptation to lean into his hand, take in the warmth and comfort when life had been so utterly bereft and lonely for so long.

“That came out wrong.” His voice was husky, sexy, intense. “What I wanted to say was that it’s charming that you believe in love like this, for the ages.”

I swallowed. “It’s just a story.”

“But you believe it.”

“I do,” I murmured.

I thought he’d kiss me, and he did…on my nose, his lips making my cold nose warm.

“You’re very beautiful, very charming, intelligent, and….” Jax’s blue eyes were intense, bold, and bluer. “I’m getting an inferiority complex here, darlin’ Dee, ‘cause I think you’re perfect.”

I snorted. Stepped away. “Perfect, I’m not, Jax,” I warned him. “I’ve enough flaws to fill a book, and baggage to match.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap, his face so near I could feel the warmth of his breath and catch the hint of his cologne. “Who doesn’t? It isn’t our baggage that defines us, Dee, but how we carry it. You carry it with grace.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his look…the one that felt like he was peeling back a layer of mine I hadn’t meant to show, left me feeling exposed.

“Come on.” I turned away before I took an irrevocable stupid step—before he could dig any deeper inside of me.

To give him credit, Jax didn’t push. He was a pleasant companion who knew when to talk and when to be silent. As we got closer to the pub, he brought up the golf resort, and just like that, my back went up. It shouldn’t have. He was merely asking questions, but it did.

“About this golf resort…,” Jax remarked, his voice casual.

I stiffened immediately. “What about it?”

“Why don’t you want it here? Wouldn’t it help the village economically?”

I gritted my teeth. Money. That’s all these men thought about, men like Cillian, men like Jax. Disappointment was a spear in my heart. “Sure, it brings in money, but it changes everything, doesn’t it?”

“Change isn’t always bad, Dee.” His voice was soft, cajoling.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. “Who’ve you been talking to? Your good pal , Cillian O’Farrell? Did he give you a piece of the soul of Ballybeg to convince me to sell my land? To help him get the county council’s vote?”

Jax looked like I struck him physically. “Whoa, Dee! Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Oh, you think I’ve not heard it all before.” I made a face. “ Dee, it’s not the worst idea, lass. The pub’s struggling, and a resort would do wonders, wouldn’t it ? It wouldn’t do wonders, Jax; it would take away what makes us…well, us. Do you think paving over our fields and turning Ballybeg into a playground for rich tourists would save the pub? Can’t you see how that will kill the village? Or are you so blinded by the desire for money?”

I was storming past him when he grabbed my arm and swung me around.

“Let me go,” I thundered.

“No,” he said simply, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him.

The balls on this lad.

“I asked a question, that’s all. I have a lot of money, and I don’t need any more, not from some golf resort development project. That isn’t the kind of money that would add to my fortune.”

The nerve of this lad.

“Oh, you’re saying you’re so feckin’ rich this is peanuts for you.”

I tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn’t let me go. It annoyed me further that he looked amused. Was he making fun of me? The arsehole.

“Darlin’ Dee, yes, it would be peanuts, so when I tell you I’m just askin’ questions, that’s all I’m doing. I’m not interested in making any kind of money here.”

“Then what the hell are you interested in?” I demanded.

“You.”

I looked at him, shocked, and then he lowered his head, right outside The Banshee’s Rest, right on the main street for every mother and her son to watch, and kissed me.

It started soft and then became deep and demanding, not just from his side but also from mine. I wrapped my hands around his neck and stroked his hair. He pulled off his gloves sometime during the kiss because when he touched my face with his hands, we were skin-to-skin.

He tasted like an Irish spring, coffee, and sin .

He nibbled my lower lip. “Darlin’ Dee, give me the fuckin’ time of day, will you?”

I heard a whistle, and my face went red. Jax turned around without releasing me.

“Liam Murphy now get gone; the pub doesn’t open until five,” I admonished, feeling foolish because I was in the arms of a man as I tried to speak with some dignity.

“Dee and the Yank sitting on a tree,” Liam began to sing as he walked away.

“Shite,” I groaned. “Now everyone will know.”

“Oh, Dee, I got news for you, darlin’, everyone already knows. I can’t keep my eyes off of you, and every time I’m around, you become just a tad more acerbic than usual.”

“That’s because I don’t like you.” I tried to push him away. Okay, I didn’t put my back into it. It was nice, wasn’t it, to be held like this, have a man like Jax, big, tall, and beautiful, wrapped around me.

“Don’t lie, Dee.” He dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m not from here, I know that, and I don’t get it all, but I want to learn. Don’t push me away because you’re comparing me to the asshole you were engaged to.”

He had a point. He really did. But I wasn’t planning on being reasonable. Hell no.

“I’m not pushing you away because of him . I’m doing it because of you .”

In response, his warm and firm lips were back on mine, and once again, for a dizzying moment, I forgot how to breathe. My hands gripped the front of his coat, pulling him closer without meaning to, and the world seemed to tilt around us.

When he finally raised his head, my heart was racing, my face hot with shock and something…that I didn’t want to name.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

He grinned, his blue eyes sparking with mischief. “Pretty sure that was a kiss, darlin’.”

And just like that, Jax Caldwell had knocked down another wall I wasn’t sure I could rebuild.

“Let me go,” I demanded shakily, and he did, finally, do as I asked. I stepped away, trying to gather the pieces of my pride. “Don’t do it again.”

He smirked. “No way we’re not doing that again. Honest to God, Dee, I think I felt the earth shake.”

Feckin’ hell, so did I!

I put a hand to my lips, aware that I was thirty years old and no kiss in my life had felt quite so…well, perfect, and I wasn’t even the sappy romance-novel kind of lass. I was practical. I was Dee Gallagher, and I was…falling for an eejit Yank.